I haven’t bothered weighing in on this week’s Doonesbury blogfest, because it just hasn’t been funny. And that’s a criminal waste of cartoon space.

Let’s face it — blogs are ripe for tweaking. And, no, I’m not excluding this site.

The blogoshere is mostly big egos, small readerships, and craptacular writing. (Not on your site, of course, but that other guy’s page is really awful, huh?) I long for the day when somebody really does us up right. Neal Pollack comes close, but he’s just too insufferably smug. If he’d poke fun of himself half as much as he does Sullivan, I’d nominate the man for a Pulitzer. I suppose that’s part of the joke, but it just doesn’t tickle my funnybone.

(Improv comic, circa 1993: “So what’s with the funnybone, huh? It’s not a bone, and it isn’t even funny. Am I right, people?”)

It’s more telling that the collective reaction of the blogosphere seems to be “whatever.” A crowd that rises to the raw meat thrown by the Pilgers and Fisks and Ralls of the world (and the anti-blogging glurg of, say, Alex Beam) but ignores poor GT’s attempt at satire says volumes about “Doonesbury’s” decline in popular culture.

It sucks cuz he’s old. He may have been fine in his day (before I was born), but he’s got that pathetic “old dude trying to be hip” disease that seems to be a really embarrassing characteristic of baby boomers. Plus, his head’s still stuck in the 60′s paradigm while the rest of us have moved beyond boomer foolishness.

I couldn’t get enough Doonesbury during Watergate. I started reading it when I was in 5th grade, to the consternation of my parents. He WAS great, but not anymore. I think the Clinton administration knocked out the ‘edge’, or maybe it was success, whatever, I don’t bother reading it anymore.